Heat
by lostinthememories
Summary: Katniss wasn't the only girl on fire.
1. Matches

_**six times fire consumes Gale from the inside, and one time it makes its way to the outside.**_

_**I.**__ (fifteen years old; june)_

Gale is just about to leave the Everdeen house when Katniss' mother stops him. "Katniss and Prim and I will be going to the Undersees' for a bonfire ` tonight if you'd like to come," she chirps uncharacteristically. Katniss looks exasperated, but says nothing. Gable bites the inside of his cheek. The _Undersees'._ The one family in District Twelve that isn't starving, breaking laws (he's sure), or dying of some ungodly sickness. He shifts his eyes towards Katniss, whose expression has now changed to _don't you dare say no,_ and he swallows roughly. "Sure, Mrs. Everdeen," he forces a smile. "I'd be glad to."

"Good," Katniss' mother smiles gently. "You can come back around seven if you'd like. I talked to your mother about it."

Gale wonders when Mrs. Everdeen and his own mother have started talking, but he knows this isn't the time to ask. Nodding curtly, still forcing the smile, he opens the door, welcomed by the sweet, warm air of early summer. Katniss follows, as always, but she leans against the greying wall of her house instead of venturing further, as the two usually do. She crosses her arms, followed by her ankles, as she leans, biting her lip. Her eyes are downcast. "It means a lot to her," she says quietly.

"Yeah, well," Gale rasps, scratching the back of his neck. "I don't like town. She has to know that."

"Why does she _have_ to?" Katniss spits, a little sharply. "Gale, I've known you just over a year, for heaven's sake."

"I might as well walk around with it stamped on my forehead," he remarks dryly. "But I've got nothing else to do, and your mother looks pretty when she smiles."

Katniss' lips lift into a small smile of her own before she speaks again. "Madge will be there," she says quietly. "She's not so bad. I sit by her at lunch, and she's a nice girl."

"That's not what I've heard," Gale grumbles. He's been around to listen to the blonde's name hissed through secretive lips. She was only twelve, like Katniss, but she looked much older without the help of makeup she could well afford. He shakes his head. "I don't like town," he repeats.

"Stop being so stubborn!" Katniss exclaims. She's small, bony, half his size, but she surely bites. "You know nothing about her, Gale. Just because her hair is gold doesn't mean she's a bad person."

"It has nothing to do with her _hair,_ Katniss," Gale shoots back, holding words on his tongue that he knows Katniss' mother wouldn't want her to hear. He hates how his voice cracks; he wishes it would just hurry up and change already. "It has to do with the fact that she's living like a king, while the District her father is running is being torn to shreds."

"That's not his fault!" she shouts. It doesn't deter him, but she looks ashamed, returning her eyes to the ground. "And you know what I meant."

Gale sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He did know what Katniss meant. He just hated the idea of seeing Madge Undersee for more than thirty seconds so much that he couldn't see straight. Madge never had to take out tessarae, cross the fence, go to bed hungry, or say goodbye to her father in the morning not knowing it was the last time she'd ever do so. It was hard not to resent people like her, even though he knew in his heart of hearts that he was being far too presumptuous. And on the surface, she _was _pretty...

"You're coming," Katniss raises her voice after the silence. "You told my mom you were coming."

"I am," he sighs gruffly. "I'll be back here later."

"Goodbye, Gale," Katniss manages a sad smile. Oh, how she wishes Gale would stop looking at the walls in front of him and open the door.

...

Mrs. Everdeen, Katniss, Gale, and a giggling Prim are making their way towards the front of the Undersee mansion. Gale has swung Prim up over his shoulders, thinking bitterly to himself about how much he'd rather talk to this blonde than the one he's most definitely going to have to talk to later. She's so _skinny,_ it disheartens him. But the little girl is unphased, laughing about some lame joke Gale told her earlier. Oh, well. At least Katniss and her mother are smiling.

Gale sets Prim down as Mrs. Everdeen knocks on the front door. A woman Gale doesn't recognize opens the door. "Hello," she smiles a little. She's probably a maid, Gale realizes, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes. Mrs. Everdeen says a "hello" back, and soon enough, the group of them are being led through the house. It's huge, crystal windows letting in the late sunset; snacks are set out on a solid oak table near a huge patio door. Gale's only heard of them, doors that lead out onto an expanse outside, and he can't help but marvel at their handiwork. The floors are a rich mahogany, the walls adorned with paintings and photos. Gale only really notices one. A small blonde girl with perfectly cut bangs and touseled golden curls looks up at the camera in a toothy grin, gripping a piece of colored chalk, smears of it evident on her flowered dress. A small blonde boy is next to her, just as picture-perfect, also smiling. He's sure the little girl has to be Madge, but he isn't sure who the boy is. He wonders until the door is opened before him, and he nervously walks out onto the porch. There are lanterns strung about in various colors, paper flowers adorning the wooden plank stairwell that leads to a stony path down below.

"Katniss!" a cheerful, bright voice that makes Gale think of sunshine calls out.

"Hey, Madge," Katniss chuckles as she embraces a girl a few inches shorter than she. This girl is small too, but it's obvious that she eats better than most the District. Even with the hunting Katniss and Gale do, Katniss is at least ten pounds skinnier, and it's noticeable. Madge isn't _fat,_ though, nowhere close. She's _healthy,_ and it shoots a pang of jealousy through his stomach. Not for himself, but for Prim and Katniss and his own siblings.

"I'm so glad you could make it," she smiles, and it makes Gale's heart skip a little. Her teeth aren't perfect, a dazzling white but slightly crooked; the word _cute_ comes to mind, but Gale pushes it away. Her hair is down in waves over her shoulders, and she wears a white dress that reveals the curves beginning to form.

"I'm glad to be here," Katniss smiles. Gale notices he barely ever sees Katniss smile like this, even with him. And here she's done it half a dozen times in the past hour. He doesn't let himself become jealous of Madge in this aspect, though. He and Katniss share something that Madge could never even attempt to touch. But he finds himself tracing her again with his eyes, studying the way her hair falls over the stark whiteness of the dress, how it hugs her chest, and her waist, and slides over her hips...

"Pretty dress," he murmurs, and his cheeks begin to burn as he realizes that both of the girls in front of him definitely heard. Madge's surprised expression is something Gale could almost laugh at if he were not so embarrassed. Madge crosses her arms tighter, and though she is probably not blushing as much as he is, the bright red on her face shows much clearer through her ivory skin versus Gale's olive complexion. Katniss raises an eyebrow like she thinks she knows something, although there is nothing _for_ her to know. "Thank you, Gale," Madge mutters softly, averting his eyes. He smiles the tiniest of smiles - he finds himself liking the sound of his name in Madge's voice.

Katniss clears her throat. "Gale's glad to be here too."

He laughs a little, and so does Madge, though she still won't look at him. "Um," she says softly, "do you guys want some lemonade?"

Gale avoids his impulse reaction of _what's that,_ and instead nods as Katniss does so. Madge walks up the porch steps and disappears around the corner, leaving Katniss and Gale alone. The smirk on his friend's face annoys Gale, but if she were in his position, he'd be teasing her endlessly, so he mentally thanks her. "It's made out of lemons, the lemonade," Katniss says softly. As Gale's nose wrinkles, Katniss bursts into a short bout of laughter. "No, it's really good!" she assures him. "There's a lot of sugar in it."

"You've had it?" Gale asks in slight disbelief. Gale can only remember one time in his life when he'd tasted sugar; his father brought home a box of sugarcubes for his mother when he was about seven years old, and when his mother saw it, she burst into tears and threw her arms around her husband's neck, laughing. Gale, at his young age, thought this was because the precisely cut, grainy substance tasted better than anything he'd ever had. A few years later he discovered its price and demand, and he knew the taste was barely the reason at all. But he's sure he'll like this drink if it's as sweet as the memory Katniss' words brought back to him.

"Yeah," Katniss answers. "Madge gave me a bottle of it in third grade, for my birthday."

A short while later Madge is awkwardly coming back down the stairs, holding three glass bottles filled with a cloudy, pale yellow liquid. Katniss takes one immediately to lessen the burden and hands it to Gale; it only takes a small amount of fiddling for him to undo the cap. Katniss and Madge have already begun drinking theirs, licking their lips in satisfaction, but Gale is tentative.

"It's really good," Madge assures him softly. It stings a little that she knows he's never had any. Slowly, he raises the bottle to his lips, taking a miniscule sip. Katniss smiles teasingly, glancing at Madge, who's just hoping Gale doesn't hate it and get annoyed with her or something. His eyes light up, though, as he takes a bigger drink. It's the most perfect mixture between tangy and sour and sweet.

"I like it," he says, trying to direct the comment towards Katniss rather than Madge, simply because he's so embarrassed. His hard exterior is starting to wear off just a little - Madge is too delicate for him to truly depsise. Now that he has gotten a good look at her, half of the rumors he's heard are discarded as false. It's just too impossible for Madge to be the kind of person he's heard she is.

"That's good," Madge smiles, this time not exposing her teeth. Her name is called in the distance, and Madge looks in the direction of the voice. "I, um," she fidgets, "I'll talk to you guys later."

"Thanks," Katniss grins. "See you, Madge."

Gale manages a halfhearted wave as Madge scampers off, leaving him and Katniss alone. Okay, fine, he doesn't dislike Madge as much as he thought he would. But now that she's gone, he can't help but admit that he's much more comfortable.

"It's not the prettiest she's worn," Katniss remarks offhandedly. Gale's been savoring his drink and isn't sure what Katniss is referring to. "Hm?" he raises his eyebrow at her.

She smirks, "The dress."

_Oh._ "Shut up," Gale mumbles, looking away from Katniss. "I didn't know what else to say."

"Oh, I don't know," the brunette laughs. "Maybe 'hello'?"

"'Hello' is for ameteurs," he says coolly, though Katniss laughs again. "Ameteurs at what, exactly?" she asks, eyebrow raised.

"You wouldn't understand," he looks at her pointedly, a smile playing at his lips. "You're only twelve, Katniss."

"I'm old enough to have my name in the bowl," she jeers, but Gale's face falls a little. Without missing a beat, Katniss grabs his wrist. "Come on," her voice is softer. "Let's go by the bonfire." She jerks her head towards a glowing flame in the distance, emitting white puffs of smoke into the darkening night sky.

"Okay," he smiles a little back, sighing in content. He might as well enjoy himself.

. . .

He and Katniss are laughing at a joke that doesn't matter, her head on his shoulder, when Madge takes a seat next to Katniss. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything," she laughs, popping a strawberry into her mouth. It reminds Gale of a strawberry bush he discovered just the week before, near the lake in the middle of the woods. They're just beginning to ripen. "No, not at all," Katniss smiles, only glancing quickly back at Gale. The way Madge looks at him, at _them,_ as she settles herself on the log they're sitting on, he suddenly realizes: she's _jealous._ Maybe she even thinks he likes her, or he likes Katniss. Dammit.

Whether any of those assumptions are accurate or not, which he doesn't think they are, Gale can't let Madge believe them. He removes his arm from its position over Katniss' shoulders and folds his hands in his lap, leaning forward, gazing into the fire. He might not hate Madge, sure. But he _doesn't like her._

Soon Madge and Katniss' bright chatter becomes solemn; Gale realizes when he decides to listen that they're talking about the reaping. "I'm scared," Madge remarks quietly. "I think about it a lot at night."

This bothers Gale a little. "How many entries can you have, anyway?" he asks rudely. He knows he should just shut up but he, for some reason, can't. "One, right? I had five when I was your age."

He expects Madge to wither; it just seems like something she'd do. But she leans over to make eye contact with him, staring past an obviously uncomfortable Katniss. "I may only have one slip in the Reaping bowl," she says sharply, "but I have a hell of a lot more than five slips of paper explaining the severe anxiety I just so happen to suffer from."

The remark burns in Gale's stomach and he should just apologize, but his pride gets in the way. "That shit's all in your head," he mutters.

_"_Well, that makes sense, considering it's a _mental condition,_" Madge stresses loud enough for people to look, but no one does. She gets up, turning to Katniss. "I'll talk to you later, Katniss," she says. "Come find me when you're not _busy._"

. . .

Gale walks Katniss home later that night, neither one of them talking, but both of them thinking about how Gale purposely didn't say goodbye to Madge. He regrets what he said, but he doesn't beat himself up for it now. He'll have lots of time for that later.

Mrs. Everdeen and Prim say goodbye to Gale and walk inside, smelling of smoke and grinning tiredly. But Katniss doesn't follow. As soon as the door shuts, she turns toward her friend, resuming the same stance she'd had earlier in the afternoon.

"Things were going so well," she says shortly. "Things were going so well and you had to go and ruin it."

"Give me a break," Gale runs his hand over his face, exhausted. "I feel bad enough already."

"And you deserve it," Katniss' gaze is cold. "When will you learn that just because someone isn't _starving_ it doesn't mean that they're living on cloud nine? Get over yourself." With that, Katniss enters her home, shutting the door as defiantly as she can without slamming it.

That makes two people that he didn't say goodnight to.

. . .

It's been two weeks on the dot and Gale is again on Madge's doorstep. He swallows nervously, clutching the handle of the basket in his hands. He expects the standoffish maid to answer the door again, but his heart nearly stops when Madge does instead.

"What are you doing here?" she asks immediately, though her tone isn't as sharp as could be.

"I wanted to apologize," he says softly. "Madge, I'm...I'm sorry."

She crosses her arms, not accepting the apology but not quite ignoring it, either. "What's that?" she asks, staring at the basket he's holding.

"Oh, I, uh," he stutters, holding it up to her. "It's...they're for you."

Her lips part a little as she takes it from him, removing the cloth laid over the top. "Oh my goodness," she gasps quietly. "Strawberries."

"Yeah," he sighs shakily. "You...you like them, right?" He sure hopes she likes them as much as he'd thought; it took him forever to find only the best berries, ones that weren't sour or claimed by insects.

"Yeah," she looks up at him, smiling just a little. "They're my favorite, actually. Thank you." Gale doesn't know how much she wants to hug him at this moment, but if he did, he'd accept the embrace readily. "Where'd you get them?"

"The woods," he says quietly. He doesn't know if there are cameras out here or something, voice recorders, anything like that - it _is_ the mayor's house, after all. But Madge's eyes widen in the best way. "That's amazing!" she tells him. "I've always wanted to go out there."

"It's pretty nice," Gale shrugs, almost offering to take her across the fence sometime, but he decides against it. This is just an apology, nothing more, nothing less.

"Well, thanks," she smiles, wider this time. "I appreciate it. And, um, don't worry about it."

"Is it bad?" he suddenly asks. "The anxiety?"

She takes a moment before answering, obviously caught off guard. Gale scolds himself before she answers. "Don't worry about it," she repeats again. "Thanks, Gale." She grins, and Gale doesn't pick up how forced it is. Even if he knew, he's not sure he'd care.

He walks away with a warm glowing inside, of equal parts regret and equal parts joy.

. . .

_A/N: I've been lacking inspiration for FTFNP so I decided to start on this. Dang plot bunnies. I did mention another mini story formatted like this before, but I had a different one in mind then, an AU. This isn't really AU, only a tiny bit. So eventually I'll upload the other one, too, but I hope you like this one. I worked hard on it. Not sure when the next chapter will be uploaded but hopefully this weekend or sometime during next week. Reviews extremely appreciated! Thanks for reading! xo_


	2. Embers

_**II.** (eighteen years old; june)_

**a/n: in the last chapter, Gale was fifteen but almost sixteen, and in this one he's eighteen but almost nineteen. So just assume there's a three-year gap in between them and not a four-year gap. Katniss is sixteen and Madge is almost sixteen as well.**

He hasn't spoken to her in exactly three years.

For some reason the date he'd made a fool of himself at Madge's party has always stuck in his mind. He's not even sure how he's avoided her this long, but he's glad he has.

Last year, Katniss and Madge both turned fifteen—Katniss in May, Madge in July. She didn't have a party as far as Gale knew. Katniss had told him Madge's birthdate once, and much to his dismay, he not only remembered it but thought of her that entire day. Anyway, with both Katniss' and Madge's fifteenth birthdays, they were old enough to take classes in the Secondary wing of their school instead of the Middle wing. Gale actually had a few classes and lengthy interactions with Katniss, which he thoroughly enjoyed, as the couple of years were kind to both of them. They became less afraid while hunting, venturing deeper into the greenery that set them free. They even found a pond once that provided entertainment on several hot, sticky, summer afternoons.

One thing Katniss and Gale were never comfortable with was talking to one another about romance. Rumors of Gale's many flings and hookups and few semi-serious girlfriends were almost always on somebody's lips. Katniss was quite the opposite; she was often called a prude, but she couldn't care less. Physical contact made her uncomfortable, and though Gale respected that, he would be lying if he said that he'd never wanted her.

He could say the same for Madge, but on a much, much smaller scale. There have been a couple nights he can recall that she snuck into his dreams, but he'd persuaded himself that dreams don't really count. What does count, though, are the several seconds that he'd let his gaze linger on her even as her eyes flickered downward, or the way he let his mind wander when she wore a particularly stunning dress to school. Those damn dresses would be the death of him.

But he could never say that he loved her, not at this point and not ever, he's sure. It's simply a slight physical attraction, as most of his interests have been, though he doesn't like to admit that. She's not the same as the Seam girls, with almost no edges and not a mean word to say about anyone; she's pure, clean, innocent—the opposite of that which is Gale Hawthorne. She's something that he doesn't want to screw up.

She was beautiful, though. Much less _cute_ and much more _breathtaking._ She must have grown a good six inches in these past few years, her teeth have straightened out (though Gale had found something oddly charming about them when they weren't so), and he knows that all of his friends have noticed how her clothes cling around her chest. Though he doesn't disagree when they talk about her like some pretty object, he doesn't really think of her like that as much as one might assume. She's also different in that she'd never be the kind of girl to look for a quick hookup, much to his friends' and peers' frustration. He sometimes wonders what she thinks of him in this regard, but Gale isn't entirely sure he cares. Maybe just a little.

So it's understandable when Gale doesn't know whether to laugh or cry after Katniss invites him to another one of the Undersees' bonfires. It takes a few minutes of persuading, but Gale honestly would rather be with Katniss at the Undersees' than sitting at home sulking.

"Don't be stupid this time," she laughs, and at her laughter he smiles. He loves Katniss, as a friend; on the few occasions where he wants it to be more, he reminds himself that if they were to have a fallout he would lose her. He's always been protective of her, too. Numerous boys have nervously asked Katniss out on a date of sorts while at lunch, and she hasn't been on a single one—partly because of Katniss' awkward shifting in her seat and the uncertainty of her voice, but also partly due to the death glare Gale has mastered. He can't blame them, though; he doesn't think of Katniss as sexy, she too is clean. But she is the embodiment of the word _beautiful—_eyes silver, shiny, and sharp, like dimes; lips soft, pink, and quick to speak; dark hair that falls over her shoulders in waves, not like Madge's, but still something he loves to tangle his fingers in. Her skin nearly matches his, and he thinks that's strangely poetic, in a way. Not to mention her bravery and fierceness and her _fire,_ something Gale hopes nobody can ever put out.

"I won't be," he smiles. "As long as you're there with me."

"I have to talk to Madge, too," Katniss rolls her eyes, but there's a smile in them. "She hasn't been doing well lately."

Gale swallows thickly. _Oh, right._ Of all the things he could think about relating to Madge Undersee, the anxiety she mentioned to him is not one he enjoys dwelling on. He knows what it means to be anxious, and he hates the feeling—he can't imagine what it's like to live with it, to feel it every day. So he doesn't.

"Will there be alcohol?" Gale raises an eyebrow mischievously. Katniss scoffs, but says, "Probably. Her parents won't be there. Most of the town kids are going, and they're less innocent than you might think."

"Like there'll be people fucking behind the house?" Gale suggests, now grinning. Katniss punches his arm lightly, her cheeks beginning to turn scarlet.

"Kidding," he laughs, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and burying his nose in her hair. He inhales deeply and sighs. She smells like wind, like sun-heated grass, like fresh saltwater. It comforts him, more than any artificial sweet chemical ever could.

"I'm sure if there's anyone fucking behind a house it'll be you." Katniss pokes his chest.

Gale laughs. "I would object to that, but I somehow can't find the will to."

Katniss giggles, collapsing against him again. The air is sweet and she closes her eyes, listening to Gale's heartbeat and the water rushing over the rocks before them.

. . .

Now he's nervous, approaching the Undersee mansion for the third time ever with Katniss reassuringly pulling him forward. There's no knocking on the door, no Prim over his shoulders, no unsettling maids. They walk straight to the backyard, where music is playing and lights are sparkling along every surface. He sees the stark contrast of the white smoke against the black sky and smells the cherry blossoms planted in the distance. What he sees at first isn't as pleasant—most of the guys here are drunk already. He instinctively links his fingers with Katniss', and they tear their way through the crowd before sitting down in front of the fire.

Gale and Katniss get comfortable and unlink hands, and he finds himself scanning the vicinity for Madge. He can't find her after a while, though, so he and Katniss make conversation for a while.

"Maybe this'll be the night someone asks you out," Gale remarks.

Katniss rolls her eyes. "That night could have been a long time ago if you'd have learned to keep your opinions off your face," she says.

"I don't want any competition," Gale says, and it dawns on him that he's only half joking. Katniss simply looks up at him, her eyes vulnerable, before turning her head to a voice in the distance.

And there she is again.

Madge isn't wearing a dress this time—shorts, much to Gale's delight/dismay (there's no way for him to make a stupid "pretty dress" comment this time). They're denim, with several tears and loose threads, and a loose red plaid shirt hangs over her shoulders, sleeves rolled up. Her hair is blowing in the warm breeze in tight, tousled waves, and her smile is bright, probably due to the fact that Gale hasn't made eye contact with her yet.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she says, sitting down next to Katniss, who laughs out loud. It takes a moment for Gale to remember that Madge said the exact same thing to the two of them the last time. And again, she's not interrupting anything.

"Peeta!" Madge calls as she sits down, and Gale feels Katniss tense up. Madge turns to them. "Have you met him before, Katniss?" she asks. "He wasn't here the last time."

"Yes," is all Katniss says, and Madge looks concerned, but drops it. Gale wonders why Katniss is so on edge; has this Peeta kid hurt her? His jaw tightens, and Katniss' steely eyes find him again. "It's okay," she mouths. Soon a boy with sandy blonde hair approaches them, taking a tentative seat next to Madge. She leans into him, and suddenly Gale is a little bit jealous. _It's only because of Katniss,_ he reminds himself. It has nothing to do with the fact that Peeta smiles down at Madge, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, or the way she grins back.

Suddenly Gale realizes. "Peeta Mellark?" he whispers to Katniss, who nods. Gale and Katniss have only ever traded with Mr. Mellark, who gave them their payment at the back door, so neither of them have ever been inside the bakery to meet his sons. Well, _he_ hasn't. Peeta and Katniss are in the same grade, so he grudgingly reminds himself that he can't always be with Katniss and that she very well might have met Peeta before.

Mr. Mellark always paid them well and Gale had to commend that he was still with his witch of a wife. Still, when Peeta's eyes aren't on Madge they're on Katniss, and he hates it.

"I'm going to go get something to drink," he mutters to Katniss. She furrows her brow as he stalks away, turning a curious gaze to Madge, who shrugs.

"So you've met?" Madge asks her friends. Both of them nod stiffly. "When?"

"We have a couple classes together," Katniss says, at the same time Peeta blurts, "A few years ago." The awkward silence lasts a few minutes before they eventually pick up a conversation.

"Madge," Katniss says later, after another more comfortable, less awkward silence, "You should go after Gale. He's a real asshole when he's had too much."

"What do you mean, 'when he's had too much'?" Madge jokes dryly, though her heart isn't in it. She hasn't forgotten the strawberries. She hasn't forgotten how much she wanted to tell him about the _episodes,_ as the Capitol doctors called them. She hasn't forgotten anything about Gale Hawthorne.

So she follows her friend's advice and goes after Gale, and after some uncomfortable asking around (she's heard variations of "Why're you looking for Hawthorne when you could just fuck me?" at least three times), she finds him leaning against the shed at the far edge of the yard. She can immediately tell he's drunk.

"Gale Hawthorne," she spits. He chuckles a little when she stands in front of him, and puts up almost no fight when she takes the bottle of beer out of his hand and throws it to the ground. He's not just drunk, he's _wasted._

"Madge Undersee," he drawls, laughing like it's the funniest thing he's ever said. "Why'd you take away my drink?"

"Because you've had way too fucking much," she mutters, grabbing his wrist.

"Woah, Undersee," Gale laughs. "Watch the language."

"You're one to talk," she scoffs, though it's hard to sound angry as he runs his hand up and down her arm. _He's drunk,_ she reminds herself. _This means absolutely nothing to him._

"Mm," he murmurs, pulling her closer. "I should be mad at you for that, but I bet you taste better anyway."

"Excuse me?" Madge looks up at Gale, and as much as she wants to pull away from his grasp, she doesn't. "Gale, let go." Her voice is weak.

"Tell me to stop," he shifts so that her back is to the cold exterior of the shed. He buries his face against her neck, his warm breath causing her to shiver. "Tell me to stop."

_Stop,_ she says, only in her mind. This is wrong, this is stupid, this is desperate, but she likes it. She's _wanted_ it since she was eleven years old. Perhaps not up against a metal wall while Gale is practically unconscious, but she'll take what she can get from him.

"Tell me to stop, Madge," he says again, running his fingers through her hair, pulling her so that their foreheads touch. "Please, tell me to stop."

"Are you _begging _me?" she asks, with a hint of humor in her voice.

"Only for your own sake," Gale murmurs, his fingers sneaking the tiniest bit past the hem of her shirt.

"I think I can take care of myself," she giggles.

"That you can," Gale's voice is wavering. "But I'd like to."

The kiss begins slowly as their lips meet with unspeakable hesitation. Soon, though, a combination of Gale's drunkenness and Madge's desire cause it to be anything but chaste—instead it's warm and wet and messy. His hand travels farther up her back and she tries not to feel self-conscious. She knows deep in her mind that this will mean nothing to Gale in the morning—hell, it won't mean anything in twenty minutes. He probably won't even remember it. But she still hopes he can stop avoiding her now, that maybe they can do this again sometime, when Gale's mind is clear.

"Fuck," Gale groans. "Madge, fuck me." He begins grinding his hips against hers, and she laughs, pulling away. He sighs in frustration.

"You're drunk," she reminds him, just a little hurt. "And watch your language."

He groans again, and she gives him another quick peck before circling her hand around the half of his wrist she can take. "Come on," she tells him. "Katniss is waiting for you."

"Katniss," he mutters, a little bitterly. "She hasn't fucked the Mellark kid yet?"

"Is that why you got drunk?" Madge asks, so quiet he couldn't hear it. She knows the answer is _yes._

. . .

The next morning, Madge hears a knock on her door, and, being the only one home and awake, she answers. Her heart nearly stops when she sees Gale at her doorstep, and she's not sure if she's happy or upset.

"Hey," he sighs uncomfortably. She only smiles slightly, her mouth suddenly dry. She picks up immediately that this isn't a _last night was so great that I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me_ situation. It's more of an _I'm sorry I used you while I was drunk_ kind of thing.

"I wanted to talk to you," Gale stutters. "About last night."

"Of course you do," Madge hums, annoyed, shutting the door behind her. She stays at the top step, while Gale hesitantly stands on the first one.

"I…I'm sorry, Madge."

"So let me get this straight," Madge looks him in the eye. "You don't have enough class to kiss a girl when you're not wasted, but you have enough to tell her you're sorry the morning after."

"You kissed me back," he says, his voice now sharp. Her shoulders slump; he's right. But she didn't kiss him back just to feel her body burn, or to feel somebody pressed up to her. She never would have let someone that wasn't Gale drunkenly make out with her.

"I know I did," she tells him. "But it meant something for me."

"Shit," Gale mutters. "Madge, you don't—"

"I like you, Gale," she shouts, throwing her hands up in the air. "I let you kiss me and I kissed you back because I've wanted to do so for the longest fucking time."

"I wouldn't kiss you if I didn't like you," Gale attempts lamely.

But this makes her angrier. "You don't like _me,_" she spits. "You like how I feel below you. You like how I taste and how I look but you don't like _me._"

Deep inside, Gale just wants to apologize and hug Madge and possibly kiss her much softer this time. He wants to be able to smile at her in the hallways and laugh at her jokes. But kindness and apologies aren't his first reaction. Nine times out of ten, anger is, and this time is one of those nine.

"What the hell did you expect?" he asks. His mind is screaming _shut up,_ but he doesn't. "Did you expect me to come here with flowers and ask you for some sort of commitment? I was drunk, Undersee. You've got to know what kind of person I am. I don't do relationships."

"I'd heard rumors," Madge says shortly. "I thought I'd give you the benefit of the doubt. But Katniss _did_ say you were an asshole when you drank too much." She laughs. "It was silly of me not to believe her."

Gale doesn't respond. They both stand there, the heat slowly dissipating as the seconds turn to minutes. "So why are you here?"

"To say sorry," Gale scowls.

"There's more," Madge quips. "If you'd have simply wanted to say sorry you'd have asked Katniss to pass on the message."

"I didn't last time," he reminds her.

She sighs. "No, you didn't. But that was different." She's not sure how, and she's glad he doesn't press further. "Besides, it's kind of sad that there was a _last time._"

Gale runs his fingers through his hair, growing more agitated. "What do you want from me?" he asks.

"_There's more,"_ Madge repeats. "Tell me."

"Fine!" Gale shouts, a little too loudly. "I came to tell you not to expect anything from me! I don't want a relationship with you, I don't want to be your friend, I don't want you to keep waiting for me. I don't love you, Madge."

She bites her lip, holding back tears. "I didn't expect you to love me," she says, her voice wavering a little. Why does he make her so damn weak? Reduce her to puddles?

"Yeah, well," Gale sighs, "I don't _like_ you either. We're nothing, Madge."

She shuts the door without looking back, hoping he calls her name. But when she looks out the window a second later, he's already disappearing in the horizon.


	3. Ignite

_**III. **(eighteen years old; August)_

_**Reaping Day**_

Gale says a silent prayer of thanks to whoever's listening that this is his last year.

He's evaded the Capitol's grasp for the past six summers, and he's hoping with everything in him that this year is kind to him as well. He's painfully aware that this is both Prim's and Rory's first year, though, which makes his slight smile even smaller as he gets dressed. As he's buttoning up his shirt, there's a knock on the door.

"Come in," Gale says as he turns around.

It's his mother. "Hey, Ma," Gale smiles.

"Oh, Gale," his mother rushes toward him, placing her hands on his chest. "You look so handsome. I wish your father could see you."

"I think he can," Gale says quietly, wrapping his arms around his mother. "Hey, don't cry."

"I'm just nervous," Hazelle admits, wiping her cheeks. "For Rory and even for Prim."

"Me too," Gale nods. "But nothing's happened yet, okay?"

"He likes her," Hazelle says quietly. Gale raises an eyebrow, so she elaborates. "Rory. He has the biggest crush on Prim." Seeing her son's mischievous grin, she jabs a finger into his chest. "Don't you dare give him a hard time about it."

"That'll be difficult," Gale remarks, "but I'll try not to."

"You _won't,_" Hazelle stresses, though she's smiling a little. "If you're going into town, be careful about it."

"Okay," Gale calls as his mother exits the room.

Once she's down the stairs, Gale turns to the mirror, studying himself. His scowl is permanent, he's come to realize, but what's there to smile about anyway? Sighing, he runs his fingers through his raven hair, reminding himself that Katniss wanted him to trade something with her this morning. She wouldn't tell him what, but she sounded excited. _After this is over we'll go into the woods and forget about the damn Capitol, _he muses to himself.

Sighing again, he goes down the stairs two at a time and rushes out the door.

. . .

"Sorry about the deer," Gale remarks as he and Katniss sit down. "I've got something to make up for it."

"Do you now?" Katniss rolls her eyes, clearly still a little upset that Gale scared her deer away.

"I do," Gale raises an eyebrow, pulling a still-warm loaf of bread out of his bag. Katniss' eyes go wide, and then she laughs out loud at the arrow stuck through the middle. "You shot this," she laughs, taking it in her hands. "Your skills are improving."

"Right in the eye," Gale jokes, taking the half Katniss broke off for him. As they eat, Gale gazes off into the distance. "We could do it, you know," he says after a while.

"Do what?" Katniss asks. She knows this is the tone of voice Gale uses when he's about to say something ridiculous. Ridiculous to her, anyway.

"Take off, live in the woods."

"We wouldn't make it five miles," Katniss tells him. Gale's talked about running away before, but never like this.

"Oh, I'd get five miles," Gale says, pointing off into the distance. "I'd take that way."

Katniss rolls her eyes, but she's smiling a little. "Happy Hunger Games," Gale says as she leans into him.

"And may the odds be ever in your favor," Katniss finishes.

He hopes so.

. . .

"So what was it that you found?" Gale asks Katniss as they walk away from the fence.

"Oh! Thanks for reminding me," Katniss says. Reaching into her bag, she pulls out a cardboard box. "My mom told me to put them in here. It's a morphling box."

Gale nods, eager to see what's inside. "I found them the other day," Katniss says. When she opens it, Gale wants to groan. The box is filled with bright red strawberries. "What's wrong?" his friend asks him, looking concerned.

"Nothing," Gale says quickly. "I've seen the strawberry bush before."

"And you didn't tell me?" Katniss asks in disbelief. "Gale, these go for a lot."

"I didn't think of it," he lies. The truth is, the only time he'd ever picked strawberries was when he did for Madge, and he couldn't bear the thought of going back again. Especially not now. He'd never known anyone else who'd even had strawberries before, except maybe a few of the merchants, but most of them wouldn't bat an eye before turning him in.

"Okay," Katniss nods skeptically. "Anyway, I'm sure you know someone we could sell these to before we go to the square."

"Sure I do," Gale says gruffly. "I think Madge likes them." Thank God Katniss doesn't know about the kiss. She raises an eyebrow at him, but they continue to walk in silence until they're in town.

"Alright," Katniss sighs. "To the Mayor's, then."

. . .

Madge nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears the knock on the door. The house is dead silent; her father's gone to the square and her mother passed out this morning, like she has every year on this day, even before she had Madge to worry about. Her fingers were floating above the ivories of her piano, her mind wanting to play but her nerves numb in response.

The knock is persistent. "Coming, coming," Madge grumbles. She fusses with her skirt, with her hair ribbon, with the bangs swept across the side of her forehead, and finally with the doorknob. Her heart nearly stops when she opens the door.

"Hi," she says immediately. She knows Gale is staring at her, hell, she knows it, but she won't stare back. _Can't_ stare back.

"Hi?" Katniss responds, obviously confused. Madge has never looked so uncomfortable around her - she's not even smiling.

"Yeah, hi," Madge repeats. "Can I help y -"

"Pretty dress," Gale says suddenly. Her eyes flicker over to his, narrow and sullen, and she matches his gaze. She wants to punch him, she wants to scream at him and cry and kiss him. The one remark that stuck in her head for days just a few summers before, the one remark that made her turn pink with elation has now made her blush red with anger.

"Well, I want to look nice if I end up going to the Capitol, don't I?" she suddenly spits out. _Stupid,_ she tells herself. _What the hell was that?_

"You won't be going to the Capitol," he tells her. She can see the little flickers of pain in his eyes. She knows he's sorry, on the surface, but that isn't good enough for her. "How many entries can you have, anyway? I had five when I was just twelve years old."

"That's not her fault," Katniss suddenly says. She's confused, understandably. She knows Madge and Gale don't exactly get along, but this? All she can sense between the two is hatred, like they are one another's prey.

"It's no one's fault," Gale shrugs nonchalantly. Ah, yes, trying to play the good guy. "It's just the way it is."

"Anyway," Katniss sighs tiredly. "We brought strawberries. Gale told me you like them." She holds up the basket, and Madge peers in skeptically. Gale revels in the fact that her jaw drops just the slightest bit.

Straightening up her back, Madge stutters, "My father likes strawberries."

"Great!" Katniss grins. She turns to Gale, hoping he's happy as well, but she sees his gaze on something else. Following it, her eyes land on the circular gold pin Madge wears. Katniss sighs again at the unfound resentment Gale must be holding.

Madge turns soundlessly through the open door into the kitchen, grabbing a jar of coins off of the counter. She carefully counts out the correct amount and turns to Katniss. "Thank you," she nearly whispers, taking the basket. "Good luck, Katniss."

Katniss sighs again. "You too, Madge."

She looks at Gale again, hoping to find something in his eyes, but he's blankly staring past her. Wanting to scream, to cry, to give up, she turns away, shutting the door softly. She wants to slam it in Gale's face, but that would be impolite. Just like making out with a girl who wants you while you're drunk.

So impolite.

Without hesitation, Madge throws the berries, basket and all, into the sink. She's cried every year on Reaping Day so far, her nerves flaring up and her stomach twisting more than usual, but today it's not because she's afraid of the Capitol's power.

She's afraid of the Capitol's enemy.

. . .

Madge doesn't even register when Gale nearly knocks her down on their way into the Justice Building. She knows Gale should get to say goodbye first, she knows he deserves it even after everything he's done to her, but mind over matter carries her feet swiftly past him and through the heavy, dark doors. She shivers knowing that her own mother walked through the same doors ages ago to say goodbye to her aunt Maysilee. Madge hates the name, because that's what her mother calls her whenever she's under morphling.

Katniss is turned toward the windows, squinting into the early afternoon sun. Her knuckles grip the sill tightly, and her lip is between her teeth. "Katniss," Madge pants, pushing the door shut behind her.

"Madge," the brunette breathes, briskly turning around. She wipes her sweaty palms on her blue dress, sighing shakily.

They embrace quickly before Madge nearly tears her mockingjay pin off of her dress. "They let you have a token in the arena," she sputters. "Something from home." Her fingers shaking, she pins it onto Katniss' breast.

"Wait," Katniss grabs Madge's wrist. "I can't...I can't take this, Madge."

"Yes you can," Madge asserts, her voice wavering. "It was my aunt's. She wore it into the arena, too." She can't cry now, dammit. She's not the one being delivered to a death sentence on the fastest fucking train in existence.

It all happened so fast, Prim's name rolling off of Effie Trinket's lips, Katniss' selfless scream, and the silence that followed.

And then Peeta.

She can't think about Peeta. Her best friend, her one confidant, so good with words that he could unravel any doubts she'd repeat to herself, sobbing in his arms as her mind took over her body in the worst way. She knows what each shade of blue in his eyes means, she knows how his hand feels in hers, she knows his favorite food and where he got each and every scar his mother gave him. She knows what upsets him and she knows what makes him smile and she knows who he loves: the trembling girl in front of her.

Suddenly the dam breaks and the tears are streaming down her cheeks. "I'm s-sorry," she cries, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "It's just... you, you and Peeta... were my only f-friends."

"Madge," Katniss takes the blonde in her arms again. "I can try to win."

"One of you is going to die no matter what happens," she says quietly. She should be the strong one, she should be the one holding Katniss tight. But she isn't and she never will be.

"I'll do my best to make things alright," Katniss whispers, pulling away. "You're strong, Madge. You don't think you are, but you're the strongest girl I know."

"Really?" Madge asks, inhaling deeply. "Katniss, I -"

"You are," Katniss repeats, her tone rising. "You are."

Then the doors open and Madge is immediately rushed out, making eye contact with her friend one last time. Gale collides with Madge again as they both rush in opposite directions, he to see Katniss and her to see Peeta.

"Sorry," Madge squeaks pathetically. Gale nods, and she knows there's apology in his eyes, but she can't bear to show acceptance in her own. Concentrating on the lines between each floorboard, Madge makes her way to the males' visiting room, pushing the door open as though her life depended on it.

"Madge -" Peeta exclaims, but Madge immediately wraps her arms around him and places a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

When she pulls away, Peeta looks shocked, but not angry or repulsed. "Madge," he breathes softly, running a hand through his flaxen hair.

"I'm sorry," she cries out, more tears beginning to flow. "Just...just in case I never got to see you again. I-I know about Katniss, and I'm sorry -"

"No," Peeta assures her, wrapping her in his embrace again. "No, I understand. Hey," he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm not upset."

She nods desperately, leaning against his chest. "I'll miss you," she whispers.

"Next time it happens," he begins soothingly, and she knows what he means by _it,_ "take deep breaths, okay? Lay down and breathe, and think of the sunset."

She smiles a little. That's always what Peeta had told her, to think of a sunset. To imagine the colors growing in intensity and vastly expanding over a late evening sky. "Pretend I'm there," he says, "and I'll be thinking of you."

"You can do it," Madge supplies weakly. "You're strong."

He pulls away, blue eyes colliding with blue eyes as a teary-eyed sea. "Madge," he sighs, "don't."

"But you can!" she exclaims. "Peeta, I _know _ you can. Try, try for me."

"Okay," he says softly, hugging her once again. She breathes in his scent, of flour and dough and sugar and honey and spices, trying to memorize every layer, every note.

"Promise?" she sniffles.

He nods, though she can't see it, and she doesn't press further. They stand in this embrace until the doors open and the men in white take away a piece of Peeta that he'll never be able to get back.

"I believe in you," she whispers against him before walking out. He manages a watery smile and watches the doors close.

He watches them and watches them until it's time to go.

. . .

Gale sighs angrily, pacing back and forth in his bedroom. The sun is setting and Katniss isn't here. _Katniss isn't here._

When the memory plays back he only hears the rush of the blood in his ears, the beat of his heart, his shaky sigh. He only feels her against him, the rough fabric of her dress below his palms. Every time he closes his eyes even to blink, she is there, and he can't take it anymore.

Rushing to the front door, he's stopped by his mother.

"Where are you going?" she asks gently, not a drop of suspicion in her voice.

"The meadow," he sighs, and Hazelle nods. He gives her the tiniest smile of appreciation and thanks as he bolts out into the evening air, the pink sky, and the coal dust.

. . .

Madge has been screaming and crying since she arrived home a few hours ago, a kaleidoscope of memories flashing through her mind and behind her eyelids. Some may find it cruel or cold the way her father pointedly ignores her, but it means the world to Madge. She can't explain the pictures in her mind, the distorted sound, the images and the crushed hopes. She wants to battle her demons alone.

She lays on her bed, breathless, every bit of her clothing on the floor except for the slip she had worn under her dress. She's burning and freezing and just wants to sleep and never wake up.

Suddenly she gets an idea, an escape she's only used a few times before, and hurriedly puts on her jacket and some suitable shoes.

"Daddy," she calls as she bounds down the stairs, "I'm going for a walk."

. . .

Gale is startled to see someone else among the grasses as he stalks into the meadow. Someone else grieving, breathing, he supposes. He decides to just keep his distance until he sees who it is.

"Madge," he chokes out. He wishes he could be selfish and arrogant and ignore her, but he can't, not after today. He'll be civil to Madge, if not only for an hour.

She turns her head toward him, her eyes rimmed with pink, her lips a brilliant shade of red, her cheeks flushed. She only nods slightly before returning her gaze to the sky. "Gale."

He sits down a few feet away from her, unsure of what to say. He's about to open his mouth when she says, "Needed to breathe?"

"Yeah." He clears his throat, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "I...I didn't even know you knew how to get here."

"'Course I do," she says, keeping her eyes locked on the sky. "I've lived here my whole life, Gale."

They sit in a brief silence before Gale cracks. "Fuck, Madge," he sighs, "I'm really sorry."

"I know," she crosses her ankles nonchalantly, still not looking at him. "You said you were."

"But I really am," he says. "I meant it."

"I know."

He doesn't know, and she doesn't know, what else to say, so they sit in silence for what must be at least a half hour. He's settled so that he lays an arm's length away from her, and it's almost nice.

"Peeta was my best friend," Madge croaks. Gale turns to face her, a battle raging inside of him. He will _not_ develop any sort of feeling for Madge Undersee, whether it be platonic or romantic, but he supposes he doesn't have any other choice but to listen.

"Everyone thought we would get married," she continues. "We spent all of our time together. He never really understood the attacks, but he did a wonderful job fighting them away."

"Attacks?" Gale wonders naively.

"Panic attacks," she says softly, and he curses himself. _Of course, what else could they be?_ "He would hold me until I stopped screaming."

Gale swallows thickly. "Katniss knew me better than anyone."

She actually looks at him this time, a small smile playing at her lips. Even after everything, it can be safely said that they are suffering the most in District Twelve tonight. Well, perhaps after Prim and Mr. Mellark and Mrs. Everdeen. Or maybe their pain is just as great. All Gale knows is that he has this one last shred of anything, a best friend, in common with Madge, and for that he's grateful.

"Everybody thought _we_ would get married, too," Gale says, feeling like he's sharing some big secret. "Even I thought so."

"Did you want to marry her?" Madge asks.

"Did you want to marry Peeta?"

"Maybe a little," the blonde relents. "But he loves someone else now."

"Who?" Gale is curious.

"It's not important," Madge shakes her head. "So did you? Want to marry her?"

"Yeah," he confesses. "Yeah, Madge, I did. And now she's gone."

"You have me."

The silence is long now, and Madge fears she's said too much. She softly begins to cry, trying to keep it down until she just can't anymore. Her sobs grow louder, and she rips fistfuls of grass out of the earth. After what feels like eternity, she feels Gale move a little closer to her. He could put his arm around her if he wanted to. "Shh, Madge," he says softly, "it's okay." He wraps one arm around her shoulder; all the unpleasant feelings he'd had toward her are now gone. Madge is still human, still fragile, and it would be cruel to ignore her while she cries. "I really am," he breaths shakily, his fingertips dancing over her collarbone, "sorry."

"I _know,_" she stresses, subconsciously leaning into him. "Stop saying it."

"Okay," he whispers, leaning up on one elbow and looking down at her. "I might've still kissed you if I wasn't drunk and we didn't hate each other."

Her lip quirks up in the corner, and she meets his eyes. "I never hated you," she says, her voice watery.

"I never hated you, either," he smiles. "I just resented you."

"I can't blame you," she shrugs sadly, sniffling. "But do you still?"

"I can feel it going away," he grins now, and so does she.

"You're not drunk and you don't hate me and I don't hate you," she blurts. "So what's stopping you?"

"From what? This?" he asks innocently. Before she can respond, he leans down and kisses her as softly as he can. Her tongue traces his bottom lip and he shivers, bringing her closer, so that he's nearly on top of her. She sighs his name into his mouth and he moans, pulling her _closer, closer, closer._ "You don't have to love me," she shudders.

"But we've only got each other now," he says, completing her thought. They pull apart, smiling, and he cups her cheek. "You can talk to me if you need to."

"Okay," she whispers, closing her eyes. He plants another kiss on her forehead and leans back down onto the now cold grass, pulling her close. Their bodies are aligned but not completely touching, their lips still tingling with one another's taste.

"I'm going to need you," Madge murmurs.

"I'm not going," he says. "They can't take me."

"Me neither," she murmurs, burying herself into his side. "Wake me up when it gets late."

"I promise," he whispers, gently grabbing her hand and kissing her palm. He can't bear to say any more.

. . .

Gale doesn't know what's changed inside of him, but he doesn't like it. He wishes he'd never even talked to her, but he can't go back on his word now. He'll just have to give Madge a chance, he supposes.

He hates the way she changed him so quickly, caused him to melt with her words. But maybe this is what he needs, someone to relate to. And she knows that once this is all over that he's not going to fall in love with her or something. She knows, and he knows. It's a comfortable arrangement.

So far.

. . .

They both know that this is crazy, uncharacteristic, incredibly confusing and utterly ridiculous. But as the day has proven, stranger things have happened.

. . .

_a/n: not sure if I really like this, but for the most part it's okay. The next chapter will likely be somewhat like this except a bit more in depth and not as...fluffy? I don't know. This was a totally random plot bunny, so I apologize for any continuity errors or plot holes. (Is this too OOC?) I hope you like it! REALLY appreciating the reviews!_


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